“I have hurt my father,” she said; “I have hurt my aunt. The room seemed a vacuum. She took the piece of paper and unfolded it in the safety of her lap. Wearied at length with thinking on the past, and terrified by the prospect of the future, he threw himself on the straw with which the cage was littered, and endeavoured to compose himself to slumber. Good night. Analysis would come later, when the primitive conscience, satisfied, would cease to dominate his thought and action.
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